


Hopeful

by percywinchester27



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Hinted Past Sexual Abuse, Non Graphic, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, dean winchester being his extra awesome self, little angst, self blame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26791864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percywinchester27/pseuds/percywinchester27
Summary: This is a bit personal and was hard to write. I'd love some feedback :)
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Hopeful

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit personal and was hard to write. I'd love some feedback :)

His lips were softer than you expected, warm and so very pleasant. You could feel his hesitance though, as he looked into your eyes, silently marveling. He knew exactly how difficult this must be for you. 

It had been a couple of weeks now, almost a month since he’d last initiated a kiss. You never had, not even once in the seven years since you had first laid eyes on Dean Winchester. You had fallen for the incredibly good looks at first sight. That wasn’t the surprising part. The surprising part was that somehow he had too.

There were years of flirting, coy smiles and stolen glances. Months of accelerated heartbeats and fluttered eye lashes, before you found yourself pinned against a wall, with his lips hovering above yours, coaxing, almost begging you to let him show you how he truly felt about you. You had turned your head then, trying your best to not let the brain-numbing fear show in your eyes. Dean didn’t need to know. He didn’t need to carry this too with him for the rest of his life. You loved him, and it was the least you could do. 

When you had pushed and walked away, you had heard his sigh of disappointment, and you didn’t blame him. It was only the next day that you found out it was in fact a sigh of guilt. Dean felt guilty for assuming that you wanted what he had wanted. He had been sorry. You had to tell him then. It wasn’t his fault… It was yours.

And Dean had understood. He had wrapped you in his arms, kissing your forehead and gently reassuring you that it was fine. He loved you for you, and that was all that mattered to him; that you were happy. You had buried your face in his chest, silently resolving to get over this for him. Because Dean deserved so much better.

Since then, it would happen sometimes. When you were sitting on his lap, too engrossed in a movie, Dean’s lips would slowly move from your hair to your jaw, then chin, and suddenly you’d find him too close, his pupils dilated with a primal need, while yours dilated with fear. He’d immediately pull back.

There were nights spent cuddling together in bed, and sometimes his fingers would slip beneath your tank top, and your breath would hitch in your throat. It was a wonderful sensation, as his calloused fingers grazed your sensitive skin, dipping underneath the waist band of your sweats, inching closer and closer… while his lips ghosted along the column of your neck, finally finding his way dangerously close to your lips. Times like those, you kissed him first. Swallowed all the god awful terror, tightly close your eyes, and just pushed your lips against his, capturing his forcefully, doing what is supposed to be done. But he’d pull away, because he always knew exactly what you were thinking. He’d hold you a little tighter, pull you flush against him, and kiss your brow. Afterwards, when he was sleeping with his head over your chest, you wondered whether you were being fair to him. Dean deserved so much better than an half-assed attempt at intimacy.

It killed you. It felt like an irretrievable weight on your chest, that made it difficult to breathe. You wanted him too. God knew that you wanted to rip those damn clothes off him, and push him into that bed, do all those things you dreamed about all day long, because a man like him inspired so many fantasies. But you couldn’t. Every damn time he tried to get close, you broke into a cold sweat, your body started shaking of it’s own accord, and your vision tunnelled in. He always understood, and that’s what killed you.

Every sex scene in a movie, book, or fiction reminded you either of what you couldn’t have, or on good days, intrigued you and falsely lured you in with a hope of what it could be like with Dean. You spent your day planning exactly what you would do to him when he came back from the hunt, down to the very last detail. Candles, check. Sexy lingerie, check. his favorite perfume, check. That kiss? The check-box remained empty.

You knew how he felt about it. It frustrated him when you went overboard like that. Not because it never lead to anything, but because you beat yourself over it afterwards, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to make you feel better. 

Oh there were days when you cried to no end, begged him to see that nothing was ever going to change, begged him to walk out on you. You were never going to get better. You were never going to get that horrible face out of your memory, as it descended upon you. You reasoned with Dean for all the life in you, but he never budged.

Most days he would just hold you, comfort you wordlessly. But there were times when he’d get angry about how little faith you put in him and his love. Those were the times when you saw right through him. Seeing you like this, so faithless, hurt him more than the nights spent wondering if he’ll ever be able to make love to you. Not that it mattered as much to him, but your pain sure did.

You wanted to tell him then that you had complete faith in him. it was you and your luck that you didn’t trust. The truth was, you could never comprehend why Dean loved you so much. He got nothing out of it. In your heart you knew he would never do it to you, he would never leave you, but that little snarky voice in your head kept whispering on the darkest of days- _What if he found another woman? Someone more beautiful? Someone who could give him exactly what he wanted. Dean is a ladies’ man after all. You can’t possibly dream of holding him… Of keeping him._

But today was different. It was his birthday, and you were baking him a pie. You had no idea what you were doing, but the sweet smell of apples and cinnamon hanging in the air, made you feel really happy about yourself. You wanted to do something special for him today, but you weren’t going to force yourself to do something you didn’t want to. Not today, because it wouldn’t be fair to Dean. So you had set about your task, and destroyed Dean’s precious kitchen in the process. When the pie was out of the oven, it was bloated disproportionately and the filling was oozing out from the corner.

You were staring at your handiwork, when a strong set of arm wrapped your waist from behind, as Dean placed his chin over your shoulder.

 _ **“**_ Are we completely sure that’s how it’s supposed to look?” He whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You could feel his lips drifting along the edge of your earlobe.

“I’m sure it tastes how its supposed to,” you breathed, closing your eyes, and inhaling deeply. It was a fruitless effort to regain your bearing, the moment he touched you, you knew you were a goner.

“Is that so?” He teased. You could feel his smile against your neck now, as he peppered wet kisses along it’s side. “You smell like an apple pie too.”

Suddenly you were pressed against the fridge, his arm circled around your lower back, as he pulled you flush against him. “I can have you for dessert,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow. 

You knew he didn’t mean anything by it. He was just trying to tease you. But in that moment you couldn’t control yourself. Maybe it was the happiness, contentment, that propelled you to take the first step, as you raised yourself on your toes, and captured his lips within yours. It surprised him, as you moved your inexperienced lips, against his full, parted ones. It took him a second, but he caught up soon, smiling so hard, that you had to pull back a little, unsure of how to proceed. But his jubilant, victorious laugh was too much and you tried it once more, throwing your arms around his neck, tentatively brushing the tip of your tongue against his lower lip. He took it from there. His fingers dug into the skin of your back, but his soft lips, gently molded against yours. Even now, he was patient, testing the waters. Sure, but careful and gentle nonetheless. 

And for the first time in forever, you didn’t want it to end. Behind your closed eyes, it was only Dean’s beautiful face that you saw, his stunning eyes, and warm smile. You followed his lead, sucking and deepening the kiss till you were both out of your breath. You rested your forehead against his, your hands rising up to cradle his head, as you tried to even your breathing.

“I did it!” You whispered, barely believing yourself.

“Yes. You did,” he said, reverently. You pulled back a little, to look it Dean’s eyes. They were glowing with pride and love. 

He held out his hand silently, and you took it. Tears were threatening your eyes, but the smile that was splitting you face, wouldn’t come off. It was too overwhelming, and only the tug of Dean’s hand kept you grounded. As he led you towards your room, you couldn’t help but fall deeper in love with the man who had never given up on you come what may. He had made you believe in yourself, told you over and over that it wasn’t your fault till you learned to believe him. You weren’t over it yet, no. But this was definitely a start. For the first time in forever, you felt hopeful. And in your heart, you knew that this feeling was here to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think :)


End file.
